I Am A Person Not A Number

Paper, cardboard cones, paper string

I know just how Patrick McGoohan feels. I seem to have been filling in an awful lot of forms recently – the sort of forms that must be completed in black ink within prescribed boxes because they will be read by machines. The sort that ask for your date of birth, national insurance number, tax reference number, passport number , bank account number – all those numbers that prove your identity, that you actually exist. Well, here are those numbers, but they’ve broken free. Out of the desert of bureaucracy has bloomed a rose, adorned by numbers, my numbers.